


Bleeding Embarrassment, Oozing Awkwardness

by Cumberbatch Critter (CumberbatchCritter)



Series: Awkward Boys Being Awkward Boys - Without Slash! [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Gen, Manscaping, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 20:50:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1563608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CumberbatchCritter/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock cuts himself while shaving.</p><p>If only he had been shaving his face, then this wouldn't have been <i>so </i>damn awkward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleeding Embarrassment, Oozing Awkwardness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magentacr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=magentacr).



"Ouch!"

John glanced up from his blog, looking towards the hallway. That was Sherlock's voice, Sherlock exclaiming pain out loud, which he hardly ever did. With a sigh, John pushed himself to his feet. He knew better than to ignore a Sherlock who vocalised pain, because Sherlock would let things go to the point of infection if John didn't catch it. Sherlock was fastidious, but it didn't mean he paid attention to scratches or bruises on what he called his 'transport'.

He rapped his knuckles on the door twice. "Sherlock? Alright?" Without waiting for a response, John pushed the door open. Far past were the days of awaiting a response; Sherlock waltzed into the bathroom to have a piss when John showered (not that John was keen on those intrusions, but they happened and John just gave up on caring), so he felt justified in pushing the door open and striding in.

Of course, walking in on Sherlock standing arse naked in the bathroom with his cock in hand was not _really_ what John had expected.

"John!" Sherlock protested, grabbing his towel from the floor.

John was about to turn his face away to give him some semblance of privacy when he noticed the blood. Three droplets, small, but startling bright against their resting place of the white linoleum floor.

He was a doctor. Blood automatically caught his eye by design, but it did even more when he knew that it was Sherlock's blood.

"Sherlock, you're bleeding."

Sherlock looped his towel around his waist, holding it loosely. "No. Well, yes. But it's not important. Don't you always give me an ultimatum about walking in when _you're_ in the bathroom?"

"You said 'ow', I wanted to know why," John retorted. "Where are you bleeding from? And why? What did you do?"

Sherlock shifted a bit, rubbing his bare foot through the small drops of blood. "Nothing. I said it's fine. I'm fine."

"Why did you say 'ow'?" John retorted.

"Maybe I fancied it," Sherlock muttered, turning back to the mirror.

"What were you doing?" John demanded.

"Nothing."

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock sighed. "Shaving. Honestly, John, do you _have_ to make everything into a huge deal?"

John paused, eyebrows drawing together. " _Shaving_?" he repeated. "That's one of the most pathetic excuses I've ever heard, Sherlock. You don't even have-" He stopped, remembering what he had seen when he walked into the bathroom. There was a sudden suspicion forming in his mind, one that he didn't really understand, but it seemed like... "Sherlock... were you..." he trailed off. "Were you... shaving _down there_?"

Sherlock sighed heavily. "Wonderfully put, John. You make it sound as though we've regressed to childhood."

John wasn't sure if he was more gobsmacked or amused or... well, he wasn't exactly sure. What was he supposed to feel when he just walked in on his flatmate shaving his cock and bollocks?

Wait. That meant-

"... Did you cut yourself?"

Sherlock shifted a bit. "No. ... Yes. Yes."

Now it was John's turn to sigh heavily, raising his hand to rub at his eyes. " _Really_? _Why_ were you shaving there?" he demanded. "How bad is it?"

"I wanted to see how long it takes for the hair-"

"Never-mind that," John interrupted. "How bad is it?" he repeated, as calmly as he could.

"It's... um... Well, it hurts," Sherlock said. "So, I'd really appreciate it if you could get out so I can take care of-"

John turned and closed the bathroom door, crossing his arms as he turned back to Sherlock.

"... What are you doing?" Sherlock asked slowly.

"Let me see," John said bluntly.

Sherlock made a face. "No. Get out."

"Trust me," John said seriously, "I'm more than willing to follow that suggestion, but I'm your doctor and I need to see how badly you've bunged the thing up. You'd like it to go septic if you don't take care of it properly?"

Sherlock stared back at him for a moment before jerking his attention back to the mirror. "I think I can take care of my own testicles," he said bluntly, fingers wrapping tighter around the point where he held his towel together.

Well, that answered the question of _which part did you actually nick?_ "Considering you just cut yourself shaving it, I'd say you're not qualified," John muttered. "Come on, Sherlock, it'll take two minutes and then I'll be out of here. Trust me," he muttered, mostly under his breath.

Sherlock huffed a breath. "... Fine," he muttered, turning to grab the loo roll for a few squares of the tissue. Seconds later, the towel fell to the floor and pooled around his ankles, and John resisted the urge to _not_ look at the more private bits of his flatmate. "It's just a little cut, I don't see why it's such a big deal," he continued, mostly to himself now.

John cleared his throat and crossed the room. "Give me that," he said, gesturing to the loo roll. He squeezed his eyes together briefly before squaring his shoulders. This was just another case of being a doctor. He had seen men naked before in this sort of setting, and even more embarrassing sexual-induced injuries, but it didn't bother him then so why should it bother him now?

Maybe because this was his flatmate and everyone assumed that they were together anyway, and going down to his knees in front of a very much naked Sherlock Holmes had all sorts of connotations that people would _never_ stop talking about if they knew-

John took a deep breath. Doctor. Patient. Completely normal.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen Sherlock's cock before. Unwillingly, anyway; Sherlock had an alarming tendancy to strut about naked after his shower or when he thought John was out, and he'd even caught him jerking off (which still made him blush if he remembered the moment, because, yeah, of _course_ Sherlock did _that_ but that was something that John should never, _ever_ witness), but he'd never been so... up close to it.

Yes, one cock looked like the next, so he told himself, but it was impossible _not_ to notice differences. It didn't exactly help that Sherlock's was approximately less than a foot away and he was actually going to have to get his hands dirty to look for the cut on Sherlock's bollocks.

"What _are_ you doing?" Sherlock retorted, taking a step back.

John reached up and gripped Sherlock's hip out of reflex. "Just relax. And give me that tissue, I need to find the cut."

"What?"

John looked up at Sherlock, literally _feeling_ the blood rush to his face fully from their positions. "Damn it, Sherlock, give me the tissue. You think this isn't uncomfortable for me?"

"I _can_ -"

"No, you _can't_ ," John interrupted. "Unless you're going to stick your own head between your legs, now give me the damn paper."

Sherlock stared at him for a moment before slowly handing the loo roll down. His face was slowly becoming infused with colour, too, which was interesting, John supposed. Sherlock didn't blush.

"Thank you," John muttered.

"... Careful," Sherlock mumbled.

"I know," John murmured, gently reaching behind Sherlock's cock to get to the wounded area. He ought to be wearing gloves. Sherlock was warm and damp and humid, clearly fresh out of the shower. That was the correct way to do it, of course, so that the hair would be... wait, why was he thinking about this again? Focus on the task at hand... literally, his mind provided.

Fuck. Why couldn't he handle this without turning into a pre-med student who was still goggling at some of the things they had to do?

"No one's ever touched my cock before."

John's fingers slipped off of Sherlock's hip. _"What?"_

Sherlock's voice was directed away; he was probably staring still at the mirror. "... I don't know. I thought it might be less awkward if we were talking."

"It's more awkward _if_ we're talking," John said firmly. "Get me a wet cloth."

The drawer opened, closed. Water ran and then turned off. Sherlock handed the cloth down.

"Thank you," John said absently. "Find some gauze in that cabinet up there. I don't think it's going to be deep enough for it to need to be wrapped, but you can hold it against the cut to stem off the blood flow right now."

Sherlock grunted in response, falling silent.

John shortly realised that maybe it was better he wasn't wearing gloves - he wouldn't be able to feel the cut with them - when his finger passed over the still-bleeding wound. Sherlock gasped and twitched from the pressure.

John flinched, too. "Sorry, sorry. I found it, though."

"I noticed..." Sherlock muttered.

"I'm sorry," John repeated. "Here, sit down on the edge of the bath and take some gauze, press it..." He reached for Sherlock's hand, guiding his fingers back to the small cut within the folds of his scrotum. "You'll be sore... Make sure you keep it clean and... oh, Neosporin or something like that, that'd be fine, but not all time. Maybe just when you're about to go to bed, that way it can breathe during the day."

John quickly removed his hand once Sherlock had taken over with the pressure. His palms felt hot, too humid and sweaty. "If you were anyone else, I'd say try to avoid sexual activity or at the very least, wear a condom, but... I don't think I really need to worry about that with you," he muttered, pushing to the sink to wash his hands, thoroughly, and maybe splash some cold water on his face while he was at it.

Sherlock huffed. "No."

"Try to keep it down, too, as much as possible," John added, feeling the awkwardness starting to slip back in as he turned around to see Sherlock still very much interested in his bleeding bollocks. The man seemed to have no shame when _he_ was the only one involved in it.

"What?" Sherlock looked up again.

John looked back at the soap. "Don't get an erection. It'll hurt, it'll pull open again and stop it healing up normally."

"Oh. Wait, what about morning erections? I can't do anything about that; they just happen, it's annoying."

John sighed. "Only _you_ would say that," he muttered, drying off his hands. "I just said, try to keep it down. Don't try to masturbate, don't do any of that for a couple days."

"'Any of that'?" Sherlock echoed. "What's 'any of that'?

John shook his head. "Nothing." He looked back at Sherlock. "And, _please_ , for the sake of my sanity so I don't have to inspect it anymore, _don't_ shave it again. Or, if you think you _must_ , just get the hair removal foaming stuff."

Sherlock blinked slowly. "I didn't know there was that there was such a thing. I'll have to try it next time. I guess you have no experience in this scenario, either?"

John didn't know which bothered him more: the fact that Sherlock was basically asking if he shaved his most intimate bits or that he had said that he was going to try it again. "No, I'm never with a women long enough to have to worry about it," he said bluntly.

"I've heard it makes coitus more pleasurable."

"So I've heard," John agreed. "But I wouldn't know, because you always scare them away."

Sherlock smiled wryly, although the blush hadn't totally left his face. "Plus... Sarah didn't like giving you blow jobs and you've never been deep-throated by any woman to have a problem with getting pubic hair in her mouth from the stray hairs on your shaft..." he trailed off, thoughtfully.

John straightened up. "Yeah, no, not having this conversation. Let me know if it doesn't heal up. Oh, and remember to put lotion on if you're shaving. I do _not_ want you coming to me with a rash or itching or whatever."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I know that, John."

"Yeah, right," John muttered, turning to the door.

"Thanks," Sherlock added.

John glanced back over his shoulder.

"The angle... it was a bit odd," Sherlock explained, gesturing vaguely to between his legs.

"Ah." John shook his head and looked back ahead. "Yeah. I told you it was. Get dressed and behave. I'll make tea."

"Alright," Sherlock said absently. "Rooibos would be nice," he said, ducking his head for a better look again.

"If you'd like," John said just as absently, eager to get out of the bathroom before something else uncomfortable could happen beneath these walls (again).

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested by magentacr.
> 
> Because I'm the person who writes John touching Sherlock's junk without any inappropriate fingering, without sucking or jerking him off, and without having an erection of his own. Yay! (Probably shouldn't be proud here...)
> 
> I do not own _Sherlock_. But I would like Moftiss to put some more doctor!John into S4... *hopeful eyes*


End file.
